


Strike Up the Band

by queenallyababwa



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But lots of fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oh boy this is a long fic, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-02 06:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenallyababwa/pseuds/queenallyababwa
Summary: After years together, LeFou and Stanley finally decide to tie the knot.





	Strike Up the Band

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kjs_s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjs_s/gifts).



> I've always kinda wanted to write a fic about their wedding and this was so much fun to write!! Enjoy~

Stanley was usually the first to rise in the morning, a good half hour before his boyfriend even entertained the idea of getting out of bed. But today, the roles had been reversed and for the first time in months, he was sitting up in bed, watching LeFou get ready for the work day with no intention to join him. He would much rather sit and watch. From his view of the bathroom adjoining their bedroom, Stanley could see his boyfriend lean over the sink as he shaved, wearing his underwear and a tank top.

Stanley tucked his arms behind his head, smiling to himself. For the first thing he saw on his thirtieth birthday, this wasn’t a bad view.

LeFou looked over from the sink and smirked. “Enjoying yourself, birthday boy?”

“Absolutely,” Stanley sighed, sinking into the sheets. “A day off from work, a long weekend ahead. The only thing that would make it better would be if you were able to spend the whole day with me.”

Running his razor under the sink before finishing up the rest of his chin, LeFou shook his head. “You know my boss would be on my ass if I skipped work today, boyfriend’s big three-oh or not. We have that massive project and all.” 

“But it’s Saturday,” Stanley huffed, sound a little more childlike than someone his age should. He knew that he shouldn’t complain; LeFou made decent money and they had just moved to a bigger apartment. He just wanted to spend the day at his side.

“I know.” LeFou grabbed the towel and patted the excess shaving cream off his face. “But we still have lunch.”

“Lunch and then a blissful weekend,” Stanley added, leaning forward, pulling the blankets with him, “To help me get over the fact that I’m old now.”

LeFou scoffed. “You’re not old. You just turned thirty.” He put his razor back in its place. “I was thirty-two when we met.”

“Well, I liked the attention of an older man,” Stanley said. “There was a certain -” he paused before finally adding, “Je ne sais quoi to dating someone five years older.”

“Glad I could be your je ne sais quoi.” LeFou said, turning around and leaning up against the doorframe between the bathroom and the bedroom. 

Stanley only laughed and motioned for LeFou to come join him on the bed. For a moment, LeFou resisted but finally walked across the short distance between where he stood and where Stanley laid, crawling over the thick duvet cover spread across the king-sized bed so that he was back to his pillow. Stanley fell back into bed and rolled over to face his boyfriend. Arms reached across spaces and pulled bodies close, lips pressed against one another before Stanley’s chin balanced itself on top of LeFou’s mess of dark curly hair.

“You know,” he murmured. “I am ten thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-eight days old today.”

LeFou laughed, burying his face into Stanley’s chest. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I did the math,” Stanley told him. His fingers reached upwards and began to play with the tightly-wound curls at the base of LeFou’s neck. 

“That’s my star accountant,” LeFou said, kissing his neck.

“I think I’m allowed to say I am officially old now,” Stanley admitted with a heavy sigh.

“But now we get to be old, together.”

Stanley took comfort in those words and with his boyfriend’s gentle touch. He wished they could have stayed like that for eternity, nestled in warmth. wrapped in each other’s embrace, laughing at each other’s jokes; that was all he wanted for his birthday. But even with the pleading of “Five more minutes”, LeFou had to pull away and get ready because, “Some people have work today.” It honestly pained Stanley to watch LeFou tug on his pants and button up his shirt, set his watch in place and knot his tie. He just decided to roll over and try to get some more sleep - 7:00 am was much too early of a time to be up on a day off.

When LeFou finished dressing, he leaned over the bed and kissed Stanley’s cheek again.  His voice a near whisper, he told him, “I’ll see you at lunchtime, okay?”

“Okay,” Stanley sighed into the pillow and listened to the sounds of his boyfriend gathering his things around the apartment before he finally fell back asleep.

After dozing for two hours, Stanley got up and shuffled out to the living room where he turned on the television to a morning talk show while he made himself a pot of coffee. As he finished measuring out the dark roast beans, he saw a chocolate glazed donut sitting on a plate sitting above a note in LeFou’s tightly scrawled handwriting, Happy Birthday, Stan. 

Stanley smiled to himself.

He made a small breakfast out of the donut, the coffee, and a few blackberries he found in the refrigerator. With the chatting of the talk show behind him, he checked his phone for the first time all morning. He made a mental note to call his mother back - he saw that she had called him at 8:17, the exact time of his birth, as she had done every year since Stanley went off to college. Of course, his conversation with his three sisters blew up with messages wishing him a happy birthday and embarrassing baby pictures he was sure they had stashed all yeah just for the occasion. 

As he grimaced at the infamous picture of him two years old, buck naked sans patent black heels and a floppy sunhat, his phone buzzed with a message from Tom.

[TOM 9:21]: Heyyy the big 3-0!! Catching up to us old folks, huh?

Stanley smiled and sent his reply.

[STANLEY 9:21]: I was planning on picking up my heart medication at the drugstore in a few minutes, actually and then have lunch obscenely early. 

He sipped his coffee, distracted by the guest making an appearance on the talk show before his phone buzzed again with Tom’s reply.

[TOM 9:23]: Would breakfast for lunch be okay, old man? Colette and I were just about to go out with the kids out to breakfast. I know having 3 kids throwing sausage around isn’t the most ideal breakfast on your thirtieth, but would you take it?

Even though Stanley already ate the donut, he didn’t want to turn Tom down. 

[STANLEY 9:24]: Sound good! Just give me the details and I’ll meet you there.

The restaurant was one of Stanley’s absolute favorites. He had gone there countless times with LeFou, the two enjoying the world go by as they sat on the patio, the pedestrians walking past and the rush of traffics in the streets. 

Having breakfast with Tom and his family lined up motivated Stanley to do more with his Saturday morning, lounging around in his pajama pants and watching awful weekend TV. He put on his tee-shirt and jeans and grabbed his wallet, his phone, his Metro card, and his backpack before heading out to the door.

The route to the breakfast place wasn’t much different that his morning commute, but the Metro ride was not nearly as crowded. The restaurant, however, was another story. The entire bistro buzzed with an electricity that only came with a sunny Saturday and Stanley was worried that the wait time was going to irritate Tom’s kids, especially the youngest who was still in the midst of his terrible twos. 

But as he walked in he saw Tom and his family head back to a table, Nathanael slumped over Tom’s shoulder and his daughters Bridget and Cecile falling over themselves to greet him.

“Uncle Stanley sit next to me!” Bridget chirped as she motioned him to follow her back with the hostess and her family.

“Uh-uh! Sit next to me!” Cecile insisted, pushing her sister out of the way. Stanley tried to hide his smile as he remembered his own sisters and how they vied for his attention when they were Tom’s girl’s age.

“Glad you could make it, Stanley,” Tom’s wife, Colette, said at they sat down at a table - Stanley between Cecile and Bridget as a compromise. 

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” Stanley told them. “Without you, I’d still be back in my lonely apartment.”

“Can’t believe LeFou couldn’t catch a break this weekend,” Tom lamented as he sat Nathanael into the highchair that the hostess had pushed towards their table.

“You know that boss of his,” Stanley said with a sigh. “He’s a real monster sometimes.”

“A monster?” Cecile repeated. “Like a big hairy one?”

LeFou’s boss was certainly hairy and the image of him being an actual beast made Stanley chuckle. “With big pointy teeth, too!”

“Oooh, scary!” Bridget said. 

The waitress set the menus down and introduced the breakfast specials for that day, but Bridget and Cecile were already hard at work on the paper children’s menus that had been set before them, using the crayons from the small plastic cup sitting on the table. The entire table cloth had been made out of paper, too, and soon Stanley was drawing alongside the two girls. After they had placed their orders, the family and Stanley played tic-tac-toe and Tom nearly fought him on one of his moves, but his frustration had subsided when the food came and Stanley showed them all how to make an origami swan. 

As he recreated his creation so all three of Tom’s kids could have swans to play with, the bill arrived. But tucked into the black folder with the check was a little manila envelope. Tom opened the folder and pulled the envelope out and pushed it towards Stanley, as his name was written across the front.

Stanley sat the almost-finished napkin swan down on the table as he reached for the mysterious envelope. There was a heart-shaped sticker sealing the back and with a simple tug, he was able to open it. On a small note card, LeFou had scrawled: I would spend a thousand and one nights with you. There’s a surprise for you at the booksellers, with the address to their favorite booksellers in the city attached.

Stanley was puzzled, but quickly figured it out. 

Bidding Tom and his family goodbye after the tip was settled (he insisted on contributing even if the meal was on them), he took the Metro back towards their neighborhood, headed to the little bookseller at the corner of the block down from them.

When he entered the small, cramped space, the man behind the counter recognized him. He lit up and motioned for Stanley to come over. From behind him, he pulled out a copy of Arabian Nights. 

Arabian Nights, the book Stanley and LeFou had first poured over together. LeFou still struggled with reading but Stanley had told him all about some of his favorite stories, passed down to him in childhood through storytellers like Scheherazade and Hans Christian Anderson. Through a tattered copy obtained from the library, Stanley tried to bring back his childhood magic to his boyfriend’s small living room, reading from “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp”. 

The copy in Stanley’s hands was very different from the yellowed, dog-eared copy. This copy was hardbound and heavy from the gorgeous intricately designed cover, the gold sparkling even in the dim lighting of the bookstore. And inside, the pages looked as if a medieval scribe had taken great care to print the stories and the illustrations brought all of the best moments to life.

“Do I -” Stanley asked the clerk.

“No need, Stanley. It’s already paid for!” The clerk assured him with a smile.

Stanley was just about to thank the man before he noticed another manila envelope bookmarking “Aladdin.” He set the book on the counter and pulled the envelope out. 

I love you, you say.  
I know, I tell you.  
Be the Princess Leia to my Han Solo?

Stanley smirked. Of course he’d be the Princess Leia. 

Just like the last notecard he had received at the diner that lead him to the bookstore, the address of his favorite comic store was scrawled below. Knowing exactly what to expect, he packed the copy of Arabian Nights into a plastic bag the clerk handed him and headed uptown towards the comic book store, very close to where LeFou worked.

He decided to walk it instead of taking the Metro, enjoying the crisp September day. Besides, he was meeting LeFou in less than an hour and a half for lunch, so he might as well burn off some of the calories from breakfast.

Flushed the heavy wind that blew, he opened the door of the comic store, the little bell chiming as he entered. Nostalgia flooded over him as he thought about his childhood, crouched in the comic book store of his hometown, pouring over new issues of Batman and The Avengers. LeFou wasn’t as much as an avid comic-book reader as a boy as Stanley had been, but every once in a while, they’d both venture down to this part of town and spend hours at a time amongst the colorful racks of new printed editions.

Waiting for him at the front counter, just like in the other store, was a stack of comic books, still in shiny protective plastic. But to top it all off was a small figurine – brand new in their boxes– of Han and Leia.

As he left the store to meet LeFou for lunch, his backpack weighed down from everything collecting inside. It was nice, when he ducked inside the restaurant fifteen minutes later, to sit down and relax. It was even better, of course, to see his boyfriend again.

“Hey, handsome,” Stanley said, smile playing on his lips as he admired LeFou walking through the busy restaurant in his business suit.

“Hello, darling,” LeFou said with a sigh when he reached Stanley’s table. He kissed him on the cheek before sliding into the booth across from him.

“Well, after that trek across the entire city, I am starving,” Stanley proclaimed after the waitress poured them glasses of water and handed them menus, assuring them to take their time to look it over.

LeFou laughed as he grabbed a lemon from the small dish on the table and squeezed it into his water. “But hopefully it’s been fun?”

“It’s been wonderful.” Stanley grinned. Even if his boyfriend couldn’t be with him the entire day, he was enjoying himself with all the things he had planned. It was like a child’s Easter egg hunt, a surprise at every turn.

“There’s a few more tricks up my sleeve,” LeFou told him with a wink.

Even though all the stops and gifts LeFou had set in place were lovely, lunch was the best; nothing could replace being with LeFou and the warmth their conversations always brought. Stanley could listen to his boyfriend’s voice forever and his heart swelled every time he broke into his infectious laugh. In this booth tucked in the corner of a bustling restaurant during the lunch rush, Stanley could still feel so close to him.

After sharing a slice of cheesecake – brought out by an assembled group of singing waiters because LeFou let slip to the waitress that it was Stanley’s birthday – the two had the part ways again. But as LeFou kissed Stanley goodbye, he handed him another envelope.

This time Sweets for my sweet lead him to the candy store and massive jar of lemon-flavored gummy bears. You light up my life took him to the Sephora and the highlighter kit that Stanley had been drooling over for weeks was waiting for him with one of the perfectly made-up women at the front of the store. The last two clues brought him a box of macaroons from a French café and then a bouquet of peach roses and baby’s breath – Stanley’s favorite.

His backpack was so full with all of these extravagant gifts, the last slip of paper tucked into the bouquet only read Meet me at the dome in the park at 5:00.

Stanley arrived at the park a little early, but found the dome easily. He decided to give his back a rest and sit down at the stairs. Setting his backpack aside and gently resting the roses on top of the backpack, he sat back. Summer still clung to every breeze, but Stanley knew this park was a sight to behold in fall. At this time of evening, it was peaceful, quiet.

But LeFou’s voice coming behind him was just what he needed to hear.

“There are 365 days in a year,” he said.

Stanley looked over to see LeFou walking from the other side of the dome, slowly, coolly, hands tucked into his pocket.

“Or 525,600 minutes, if we want to go there,” he added, showing his gap-toothed grinned.

Stanley stood up, meeting his boyfriend halfway under the gazebo of the dome.

“Today is your 10958th day here, but it’s my 12,982nd day,” LeFou told him, effortlessly reciting those long numbers. 

“You did the math?” Stanley cocked his head to the side.

“I did the math,” his boyfriend assured him, nodding. “And not only that, but this is our 1240th day as a couple. Or else, three years, four months, and twenty-two days. Again, math.”

All of this talk of days confused Stanley for a moment, but then something happened that he should have saw coming from miles away. LeFou took both hands out of his pockets, but clasped the right hand was a dark green velvet box.

Stanley’s flushed, “Oh my god” was caught on a whisper as tears bubbled in his eyes. A simple glance at LeFou and he could tell he was going to start crying, too. But he took a deep breath and continued.

“But that means I spent 11,742 days without you,” he said, shakily, wavering on tears. “And, I don’t think I could do anymore. I want us to be together for however many days we have left and I pray that’s so many more.”

And then, he did it. He got down on one knee and opened the box, revealing a handsome thin silver band. He took an even deeper breath before he grabbed onto Stanley’s hand and said, “Will you, Stanley Bernard, fill the rest of my days with light and be my husband?”

Stanley didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Oh my god, LeFou, yes. Of course.”

He couldn’t really remember what happened next, both of them were crying and he clung onto LeFou the moment after he slid the band onto Stanley’s fingers and stood up. But he would never forget the way that LeFou whispered to him as they embraced, “Told you I had a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

Stanley could only laugh and hug him back.

****

The ring had been there for months now, but every once in a while, Stanley would just stare at the glinting silver band. It still felt strange, the heavy weight around his finger, and he often fiddled with it as he contemplated the idea that he’s getting married. But as the congratulation cards come by the dozen in the mail and the coffee table started to become covered in magazines and notebooks and sketches and suddenly the wedding became real.

The moment where it absolutely felt real, however, was when he and LeFou posed for their engagement announcement in October. They chose a place in the park that had gorgeous fall foliage all around and in the chilly autumn air, they held each other close for the photographs. As the photographer buzzed around them and directed them on how to hold hands or shift them should just a bit, he looked down at his fiancé and started smiling the biggest smile.

One of those photos was used for their official announcement - a postcard designed to look like a movie poster. For the picture, they decided to play off the iconic poster of the romantic comedy When Harry Met Sally (now with the bold new title When LeFou Met Stanley - Coming June 30th). Everyone who received the save-the-date in the mail almost immediately called back with “Yes’s in regards to their attendance to the wedding that summer.

With the guest list nearly solidified by November, that left the couple a total of seven months left to plan their affair. They both agreed to a modest ceremony and a simple but elegant reception, but even with them trying to simplify everything, there was still countless decisions that lead to long nights of looking at Pinterest and Saturdays of meeting with the wedding coordinator, Celine, agonizing over menus and seating charts. 

But those nights and Saturdays went by quicker than either LeFou and Stanley could have anticipated, and soon the calendar had been checked off until there were only thirty days until the big day. On their refrigerator, there was an official countdown among the usual Post-It notes and to-do lists.

As LeFou peeled off the 15 DAYS pink Post-It and threw it into the trash can, he looked over his shoulder at Stanley washing the breakfast dishes. 

“Fourteen days until you’re my husband,” he said with a sigh as he leaned up against the fridge.

Stanley smiled at the idea as he wiped the towel around the R2-D2 mug before putting it in its rightful place in the cabinet. “Is that all?” He said. “It seems like just yesterday I was standing at the bar, too nervous to legitimately talk to you, never mind ask you out.”

“Well, getting me to dance with you at Belle and Adam’s party was a pretty smooth move.” LeFou walked up behind Stanley and snaked his arms around his waist. “I was so flattered; I didn’t know what to do.” Stanley turned around so that he and LeFou were face-to-face. 

LeFou grinned. “And there was you, just so collected and suave and -”

“Screaming like a little boy on the inside,” he laughed. “Didn’t you notice my shaking, sweaty hands?”

LeFou shook his head. “Only your eyes.” He stood on the tip of his toes and kissed Stanley. As they broke apart, he looked to the clock above the stove. They had a lot to do this Saturday in order to get ready for the wedding, including Stanley’s final fitting this morning. 

“You know, your sisters are going to be here any minute,” he told Stanley, who was still wearing pajama pants. 

“Shit,” Stanley murmured thickly, pushing past LeFou to the bedroom to tug on some pants and a clean shirt to be ready for his sisters arriving to drive him to Garderobe’s home outside the city. Somehow, he had managed to be completely ready - hair combed, clothes on, teeth brushed - before he got a bombardment of texts in the family’s group chat along the lines of [LAURETTE 10:31]: We’re heeerreeeee! ;)

Making sure to kiss LeFou goodbye and grab his wallet, he jogged down the stairs of the building and out into the blinding June sunlight to find Claudette’s car sitting almost directly in front of the door. He hopped inside to find Paulette sipping some iced coffee, sunglasses holding back her long dark hair. Their sisters Paulette and Laurette sat in the back bench, sipping their own drinks and looking just as summery.

“You stopped for coffee?” Stanley asked as he shut the door and fastened his seatbelt. 

“We got you some, too!” Laurette told him, thrusting a small cup towards him, the ice cubes rattling as the drink exchanged hands. 

“Low fat milk, Stevia instead of sugar,” Claudette assured him as she maneuvered the car out of the parking space and into the city traffic. 

“Thanks for keeping my figure in mind,” Stanley told her before taking a sip of the coffee. 

“You have that dress to fit in,” Paulette added from the back seat. 

“That I do,” Stanley said and suddenly he had visions of the dress that he and Garderobe had been collaborating over for months. It had started as a dream that had been mentioned to the family friend in passing during their engagement party. But when she heard Stanley’s fantasy of what to wear while he walked down the aisle, she lit up. Soon enough, Stanley was sent an email with some sketches and swatching. For the past few months, Stanley would take trips either by himself or with his sisters to try on pieces or different iterations of the dress. But now, the final product that would become immortalized was ready and he was ready to try it on one last time before the big day.

The ride from the city to the outskirts where Garderobe lived wasn’t that long of a journey, but still Stanley twitched with anticipation (and perhaps the caffeine jolting through his system as he sipped on the coffee) all the way until Claudette pulled the car into the driveway of the home.

Garderobe was an opera singer and her husband, Cadenza, played everything with a keyboard but his true love was for the harpsichord. Talented and very respected in the performing arts community of the city, they often summered in this house, leaving behind their apartment. But before they could have two lavish homes, Stanley and his sisters simply knew them as the artistic immigrant couple down the street, doing well with their fields but not quite as successful as they had become over the last twenty years.

Even with all that success, Garderobe answered the door, hair pulled up in a loose bun, cheerful sundress skimming the top of her bare feet, little Froufrou yapping and tucked under her arms.  

When she saw Stanley, she started babbling in excitement in rapid Italian, kissing his cheek and wrapping her arm around him. “Come in, come in caro!” She motioned for the whole family to follow her inside. 

The opera singer led them past the living room, where Stanley sees the harpsichord sitting in the middle of the sun-soaked room, ready for someone’s fingers to grace the keyboard and play a tune. But Garderobe turned a corner and went up a staircase and down a hall to her sewing room.

Once perhaps a spare bedroom or a home office, Garderobe’s sewing room was filled with a colorful array of fabrics, all lined up on bolts along the walls. Notions were organized in labeled in boxes and the actual sewing machine had a beautiful view from the window. 

But taking center stage today was a dress form standing tall and straight with Stanley’s wedding dress on full display. 

There were soft gasps from his sisters that quickly turned into excited chatter, gushing about the dress, but Stanley was silent, his hands pressed against his lips.

“What do you think, mio bel ragazzo?” Garderobe asked softly. 

Stanley only looked up from the dress to the older woman. Her smile was so genuine, but her eyes were looking concerned, waiting for his full response.

Awestruck, he choked out, “I love it. T-thank you!”

Garderobe’s shoulders fell in relief. “So you want to try it on, yes?”

He nodded.

His sisters waited outside as Garderobe helped him dress as she would most likely do in two weeks. The heavy white fabric felt so different from the jeans and shirt, cooling against his legs but just light enough as it floated away from his hips. 

“There,” Garderobe proclaimed as she finished lacing him. “You’re ready.”

As she turned him to face the mirror and see himself in full glory, he took a deep breath as he felt the fabric swish and brush against his ankles, the most freeing feeling in the world.

***

While his boyfriend tried on his wedding day attire, LeFou was still in the city. After he spent a while grocery shopping and cleaning the apartment and answering emails, LeFou got a text from Gaston, asking if he was ready to go for their run. The run that, until that moment in time, LeFou had forgotten all about.

[LEFOU 2:17]: Oh boy that the least appealing thing right now.

Because a run with Gaston was more like a death march and it usually knocked LeFou out for the rest of the day. But he was asking his dear friend - a personal trainer by trade - to work in a few sessions in the months before the wedding.

[GASTON 2:18]: A wedding body isn’t achieved by sitting on your ass 

LeFou huffed.

[LEFOU 2:18]: I’m not asking for a totally new body. Just to look a little trimmer for the photos.

Gaston was insistent. 

[GASTON 2:18]: New body or not, I’m at your building and ready to race you to the park.

He couldn’t quite get rid of Gaston if he was right at his front door, so he tugged on some clothes that were work-out appropriate and his sneakers to go on the run. And just as he had predicted, Gaston was willing to kick his ass, but at least he had brought them both enormous bottles of water. He felt for sure that his legs were going to give up by the time they reached the park, but somehow he made it.

And then Gaston said five words that almost made LeFou cry in relief: “Let’s take a break here.”

As he tried to catch his breath, he leaned up against the park bench. Gaston - who’s entire job centered around fitness - is much better at hiding any sort of exhaustion, but he still chugged the water down pretty quickly.

While LeFou got his heart down to a pace where it didn’t feel like it was going to fall out of his chest, Gaston asked him, “Getting the wedding jitters yet?”

“Jitters?” LeFou’s response was carried on a huff. 

“Yeah, you know, you’re makin’ a big commitment and everything. Are you sure you’re ready for all of this?”

He thought about the first time they had dance with each other - both of them so uncertain, a little hesitant to make a movie. LeFou was so taken back as they spun around, but when he looked in his Stanley’s dark eyes, he fell hard. But the years passed and it seemed like he could still fall deeper in love with his boyfriend.  The late night talks the two shared, all the hours they had spent lying in bed, just chatting about everything and nothing. The times Stanley went out his way to make him laugh and the times he’d curl up with him when he was upset. The way Stanley smiled, wide and always scrunching his eyes in an adorable way. 

He smiled as he sipped his water.

“Completely ready,” he told Gaston. 

What of course, he wasn’t completely ready for, was the crunches and push-ups that Gaston still made him do afterwards along the trail of the park. But when he was finally done with his torture - with the prospect of another session some weekday night looming over - he walked back to his apartment, took a shower, and got ready for another appointment of wedding preparation - a wedding preparation that he couldn’t let Stanley know about.

While he cooled down on the couch after returning home, he texted Stanley about their evening plans.

[LEFOU 4:13]: How’d the fitting go? I haven’t heard from you all day!

[STANLEY 4:17]: You know how the Bernard’s get when we get together. We grabbed some lunch and went out shopping. I’m on my way home now, but the traffic on the bridge is a mess. 

[LEFOU 4:19]: I am heading to Tom’s house for a little bit because he asked me to help him with some stuff. You want to meet there for dinner? He’s doing a cookout.

He had to be as vague as possible to make sure that Stanley didn’t catch on to what LeFou was planning. He could only hope that Stanley wouldn’t catch on.

Thankfully, he didn’t, and he was free to take the Metro to the outskirts of town to Tom’s quiet neighborhood. Tom’s house was some sort of idyllic domestic fantasy - one that now that LeFou was starting to have for himself and Stanley. On the tree-lined street, as LeFou walked up hill and kids zipped past him on bicycles and families congregated on the sprawling lawns that rolled down to the street, he started to think about one of those houses being theirs. 

He wasn’t getting any younger; try as he might to hide his insecurities about being older than Stanley, forty loomed over him and was a little too close for comfort. Maybe one day they’d wake up from their apartment-dwelling days and decided they needed a lawn and a pool and a child or two to run across that lawn and splash in that pool. Maybe that day would be sooner rather than later. But at least he was confident that wherever they decided to go, they’d be together. 

Of course, Tom’s house, with three children under eight, wasn’t exactly the pretty picture of parenthood. When Tom opened the door, little Nathanael was in his arms, beet-red and crying, Cecile was shouting over the baby’s wails insistently, “I didn’t mean it!” 

“We’re hardly ready to entertain,” Tom sighed, bouncing the little boy at his hips. “But welcome to the Dupond house, anyway.”

“Daddy, I didn’t mean to hit him with the Ken doll!” Cecile cried, near in sobs herself. “It just happened! We were playing skydiver!”

Tom turned back to his daughter, who ran away as she burst into tears.

LeFou had to hold back a chuckle as he held open his arms. “I can take him while you get Cecile calmed down.”

“Oh, thank God,” Tom said as he thrust the baby to LeFou. “Colette’s working on dinner, so this means the world.”

Nathanael was certainly upset by his bruise induced by plastic doll, but LeFou had a way with babies that he was positive had to do with his softer build. By the time Tom had sorted the fiasco with Cecile out, the toddler was merely sniffling against LeFou’s chest.

“Hey, buddy,” Tom cooed, pushing Nathanael’s dark hair aside. “Let’s get you something to drink.” Taking his youngest from his friend’s arms, he led them into the kitchen where Colette was washing some zucchini under the sink. 

She turned off the water and wiped her hands against a towel. “How is he? Cecile sounded like a wreck.”

“He’s a-okay, but could use some water or juice,” Tom proclaimed, hoisting Nathanael up a little higher in his arms. 

“Aw, mon biquet!” She exclaimed, holding out her arms. Nathanael hopped from his father’s arms to his mother’s, snuggling into her shoulder. 

As Colette worked to find a plastic cup for Nathanael drink out of, she said, “You and Etienne can go work now. I think I got this covered.”

The two men went upstairs to Tom and Colette’s office and shut the door to practice without and familial distraction. LeFou pulled Colette’s office chair closer to where Tom sat at his desk and began to work assembling his saxophone out of the case set upon the oak table.

“Sorry about the craziness back there,” he said, pulling out the large base of the instrument before he began to fiddle with the mouthpiece. “But that, my friend, is married life in a nutshell. Working together, picking battles.”

“I’m ready for it,” LeFou told him, pulling out his phone and searching for the instrumental track. 

“Good, it’s a wild ride,” Tom told him. He blew a few notes to warm up. 

LeFou pressed play on the phone and began to sing. 

****

The last two weeks flew by like Stanley and LeFou couldn’t believe. Relatively peacefully, if it was to be noted, and all thanks to their wedding planner who assured them that they didn’t have to lift a finger the entire weekend. But that all just the calm before the storm. Suddenly, things began to pick up and before they could really comprehend it, they were thrown into the whirlwind of the festivities, starting with the rehearsal and the subsequent dinner. Family members and friends from all over came to the city, mumbling about the steep price of hotels as they greeted LeFou and Stanley. 

It was honestly a little overwhelming when the entire Bernard clan assembled. LeFou had been able to handle the three sisters and Stanley’s mother, Fleur, on most holidays, but now aunts and uncles he hadn’t seen in years came into town, pinching Stanley’s cheeks, patting him on the back, and introducing themselves to LeFou. He was dizzy with all of them names he had to memorize as his in-laws and was glad that he had Stanley at his side to help him try and identify who was Aunt Phoebe and who was Aunt Laurette.

Family affairs had always been small in LeFou’s family and not everyone was so energetic about his marriage to Stanley. But still it was nice to see the few cousins and relatives who agreed to attend the wedding. He could only hope that they got along with the Bernard’s as they were overwhelmingly outnumbered.

But everything seemed pretty calm at the rehearsal, assembled at the venue that tomorrow would be festooned with a hundred white chairs, creating a small aisle to the gazebo festooned with peach roses. 

After going through the vague motions of the ceremony earlier, everyone walked down the block to the rehearsal dinner at an upscale Chinese restaurant and over the family-style meal, LeFou thought about when he and Stanley moved in together and how they had ordered a similar style spread for their first “dinner party” amongst the cardboard boxes and the still-wrapped couch. 

It seemed like everything was going to make him nostalgic on that night, looking back on all the times they had spent together before they really started this new part of their lives. But it wasn’t until they had to part ways - even though this wedding was going to be anything but traditional, they both decided to spend their last night of the engagement separated, planning not to see each other until the wedding the next day. 

It was strange having the apartment all to himself, to not share the large king-sized bed and not wake up to the warmth of another body. But what he did wake up to was two text messages. The first was from Gaston, reminding him that he was coming by to meet him for breakfast at ten o’clock. The second was from Stanley.

[STANLEY 9:03]: Only seven hours until we’re husbands.  
As LeFou sat up in bed and replied to both messages, he set his phone down beside him. His tuxedo hung on the doorframe of their closet, pressed and ready to be worn. The dark fabric glistened as it was caught in the morning light from the bedroom window.

The day had finally arrived.

***

Gaston treated him to a nice breakfast at a bistro that specialized in health foods, although LeFou could remember their college days when his friend’s diet was mostly Gatorade and hot pockets and he would scoff at the idea of anything with quinoa and kale. While LeFou picked at his omelet, the both of them did a lot of reminiscing on those old college days. This was, as Gaston revealed while they waited for the check to come by, because he was working on the finishing touches of his toast speech for the reception later that night.

“Don’t worry, I won’t mention how much of a flirt you were back then,” he told LeFou with a wink as the waiter handed him the black envelope. “Or how much of a lightweight you were.”

“I wasn’t a lightweight,” LeFou insisted. “I just hated Jägermeister.”

“That was the one time I had to help you back to the dorm.” Gaston signed the check with a flourish. “You were rambling so much that day, it was hilarious.”

“I think I remember something about relationships or something,” LeFou said, digging through the recollection of that one-night Sophomore year where he stumbled through the campus, clinging to Gaston as he bemoaned of his singlehood. 

“And look who’s getting married before me.”

“It took forever to get here,” LeFou tried to console him. He knew how long Gaston had been talking about getting married, about settling down with a house in the country and kids. Back in those college days, LeFou had scoffed this idea off, but now he was starting to see the appeal. He just never believed that he’d be the first one to become domestic. 

And what could one say to a thirty-five-year-old man who had been dreaming of all of those simple things other than, “The right one for you is out there somewhere, Gaston.”

Even though Gaston could have been brought down by this talk, he picked himself up pretty quickly and was keeping a bright attitude and - for once - let the attention fall more on LeFou than himself.

“After all,” he said, “it is your wedding day.”

LeFou went back to the apartment where he and his showered, shaved, and dressed.  
Just before 2:30, he was all ready and staring at himself in the mirror. The sessions with Gaston had served him well and the tux fit perfectly. He tugged at the peach waistcoat and smoothed his lapels, checking for orderliness. 

Gaston came back in, saying that they should work on hailing a cab, and stopped right in front of the mirror. 

“You look dashing,” he said as he stood behind LeFou, grabbing the shorter man’s shoulders. And LeFou waited for the usual, “And so do I” to come from Gaston, but it never game. Instead, he received a squeeze on the shoulders.

“Let’s get you hitched.”

***

They made it to the venue with plenty of time to spare, but still the wedding planner was zipping around like a bee, making sure everyone was settled and ready to go when the conductor struck up the band for the processional. As soon as she saw Gaston and LeFou enter the building, she whisked Gaston away to pair him up with one of Stanley’s sisters, who he would be ushering down the aisle, along with Tom and Dick. 

LeFou’s mother was waiting for him in one of small rooms the planner had secured as prep areas for the wedding, dressed in a similar shade of soft pink as LeFou’s waistcoat, matronly as any mother of the groom should be with the gold detailed hat she wore. 

She helped him with tucking on his boutonniere - the same roses from the same florist that LeFou had ordered on Stanley’s birthday all those months ago - and LeFou couldn’t help but notice her eyes were red from crying. 

They never talked much and it was hard to believe that loud, talkative LeFou had come from such quiet people. And they certainly never liked to talk about LeFou and his relationships with others, as supportive as they claimed to be. But as she settled the pin into the flowers on his lapel and smoothed them once more, her smile was all he ever needed.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“LeFou!” He heard a voice call his name, and it was not the vaguely accented voice of the wedding planner, but rather the voice of Paulette. 

As he looked over his mother’s shoulder, he saw the young woman - dressed in one of the three pink dresses Stanley had chosen with care and her dark curls pulled up in an elegant up-do. 

“Is it time?” He asked, pulling himself away from his mother to see why one of the groom’s women had left Stanley’s side.

“No, I just need to show you something,” she said, beckoning him to follow her. 

LeFou hugged his mother again before following his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s lead. He wasn’t quite sure where he was taking him and he was certainly not expecting to be lead to an open door and left there with no explanation. Nor was he expecting to hear Stanley’s voice coming from the other side.

“LeFou?”

“Stanley!”

He caught himself laughing. “Was this your idea?”

“Laurette’s actually,” Stanley’s voice confirmed. “I wanted to see you before the ceremony but I didn’t want to see you, you know?”

“You’re so traditional,” LeFou told him. But he added, “It’s really nice to hear your voice, too.”

“Yeah.” He heard Stanley sigh. “Well, this is it.”

“This is it,” LeFou repeated. “You’re not chickening out, are you?”

“Never!” Stanley said. And suddenly there was a hand reaching across the door. “I love you too much.”

LeFou reached across the door and wrapped his fingers around Stanley’s hand, squeezing it with reassurance. “I love you too, Stan.”

***

When they were planning the wedding, there was a long and great debate about a live band or a DJ and eventually LeFou had won with his choice of hiring a band because he liked the vibes they brought much more than some guy and a sound system. After the ceremony, Stanley and LeFou and their family and the wedding party were all subjected to posing to photos. Countless different positions and combinations later, they were all released from the photographer to enjoy what they had spent so many months creating.

But of course, they had to make their dramatic entrance as the married couple. As they stood outside the door, awaiting instruction from the wedding coordinator for when was their time to go inside. 

“God, I’m so hungry right now,” Stanley said with a sigh; even though he was laced in pretty tight to the dress, he was going to enjoy the food and booze they had paid for and carefully selected. 

“Me too,” LeFou laughed. “Holding back my tears during the ceremony gave me quite the appetite.” 

Their ceremony could not have gone better. Both men had agreed to write their vows with Stanley reading his off first, talking about the first time they met at the bar, how LeFou had been his rock for so many years. LeFou’s set of vows were perhaps more humorous, making his usually witty quips before getting more sentimental. He was quite near the verge of tears as he finished and all through when the officiant oversaw the exchange of rings. When he proclaimed them partners for life and LeFou went for the kiss at the sounds of the assembled crowd applauding, when the two pulled away, Stanley laughed, “Your face is still wet.” And LeFou laughed at this all the way until he got to smash the glass underfoot – although the ceremony wasn’t officiated by a rabbi, it was a nod towards his Jewish heritage.

“You didn’t do a great job at that, you big goof,” Stanley laughed, shoving his shoulder. “It was a good thing Celine has some concealer on her before the photos.”

“What can I say, this is the happiest day of my life?” He said, just as he heard the band leader through the speaker, “Ladies and Gentleman, may I introduce for the first time tonight Mr. and Mr. LeFou-Bernard!”

“That’s our cue,” LeFou said, grabbing Stanley’s hand so they stood together for their dramatic entrance through the double French doors leading into the small ball room.

People were applauding once more and Stanley blushed at the attention as LeFou lead him through the maze of tables to the dance floor, where – just as planned – they were going to go start their first dance as married couple to the band’s rendition of “We’ve Only Just Begun” by the Carpenters (another much discussed element of their wedding that was one of the last things settled before the big day.)

After their first dance, dinner was served and toasts were given. Both Tom and Dick rattled on about some embarrassing moments from years ago, all the long talks and encouragement they had to give to Stanley to ask LeFou out on a date for the first time. Claudette gave a really touching speech about how she couldn’t believe her big brother was married now. Gaston’s toast was probably the most uproarious with perhaps a little too bawdy anecdote about LeFou in college (causing LeFou to turn red and laugh at his past self) and about how he deserved all the happiness in the world with Stanley. 

But after the toast, he and Stanley had to play hosts by going around to all the tables to greet their guests, his onion soup and chicken fillet dinner growing cold. He was just finishing up talking to his Great Aunt Maude – who adored his dress and talked endlessly about how she hand-sewed her own gown when she married her husband, Great Uncle Jacques – when Garderobe came by, followed by Cadenza.

“Mio bel ragazzo!” She trilled, wrapping her arms around him, her gold gown’s sleeves – designed and crafted for her favorite person’s wedding – like butterfly wings embracing him. “Ormai la frittata è fatta!”

“Thank you so much,” he said, hugging her back. He was truly so thankful for all she had done for this wedding – from the gown she had made to the aria she had sung during the ceremony (with piano accompaniment provided by her husband.)

“Your song was so beautiful, it just made the ceremony all the more special.”

“Grazie, my love!”

As she pulled away, Cadenza swooped in to give his well wishes. “Tanta felicità!” 

“So what’s in store for you two now?” Garderobe implored. 

“Well, we’re thinking we’re going to honeymoon in the South of France. . .” he began before she was interrupted by the vivacious Garderobe. 

“Oh that sounds wonderful, my boy, but if you have time, you should really take a flight to my hometown of Suvereto. Right in Tuscany, you have everything you could ever want – seaside views, vineyards all around –”

As she gave off enough information for a travel brochure for Tuscany, Stanley managed to look up to the stage where the band was playing jazz while the guests finished their meals. In all of this discussion, he had managed to lose track of where LeFou was, until he saw him join the band and, of all people, Tom on the stage with a saxophone. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, before we get started with our set, one of the grooms would like to perform a song for his husband.”

LeFou took the band leader’s place in front of the microphone. He smiled and leaned in. “So, as you guys probably know, Stanley and I are huge movie buffs. But, ah, believe or not, I’ve never seen The Parent Trap – the remake, not the old school one. I was a sixteen-year-old boy in 1998 and didn’t feel the need to go and see it.” He laughed and the crowd laughed with him. 

LeFou resumed his speech. “But Stan was younger and also had three sisters who I feel definitely had an influence to what he saw when he was eleven. So, a while back, we were getting nostalgic and we ended up renting it from the video style – again, the nostalgia of it. And as we dimmed the lights and feasted on popcorn and the opening credits began to roll, Stan leaned over to me and said, ‘I love this song so much; I want it to play at my wedding.’ Well, that was nearly three years ago and here we are. So.” He looked back to the band and made a motion with his head. At once the, they picked up the jazz-sound they had been playing. “If you’d like to join me up on stage, Stanley, and live out that 1998 fantasy – ”

Stanley could hardly believe this was happening, tears stinging his eyes again. His husband had a song for them.

“Go, my child,” Garderobe coaxed him. 

Stanley picked up his skirts and joined his husband on the stage, the band playing Nat King Cole’s “L-O-V-E.” The stage lights illuminated LeFou’s figure as he held out his hand to help Stanley and began to sing the iconic number, “L is for the way you look at me;  
O is for the only one I see . . .”

Adding flourish to the number, LeFou took his hand and twirled him around, and when he sang, “Love was made for me and you”, Stanley believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie, some of the details in here were inspired by scenes from the DavidforDisney Stanley and Lefou video (that has yet to premiere but fingers crossed it's soon)


End file.
